


Who is Winifred Burkle?

by pipisafoat



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 20:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Who is Winifred Burkle?" she muses aloud.</p><p>"I am," comes the almost petulant reply. "You may be able to dress up like me and pretend everything's okay, but you're not me!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who is Winifred Burkle?

Neither of them has done this before. In fact, as far as Illyria knows, nobody has ever succeeded even so much as they have. Success, however, is a bit of misnomer these days. Fred is somehow still alive, still in the body with her.

"I want to see Wesley," she says again. "Just let me talk to him."

Illyria sighs, then frowns to herself as she realizes what a human reaction that was. She wonders if she can blame it on the body, taking her annoyance and giving it a shape that similar bodies can understand.

"You're becoming human slowly," Fred says, triumph in her voice. "That means that sooner or later, I'll be able to fight you. And I'll win."

Illyria turns her head slowly to look into the mirror, addressing the other within her. "I may not have my full power, but I am much stronger than any human."

"But it's my body, and it will fight to be reunited with me."

She is fully aware of her actions when she shrugs slowly, meaning it as a mocking response, but Fred grins. Illyria isn't sure how she knows that, but she can sort of ... feel it. "The body belongs to whoever it fits."

She feels the shrug this time, but she's watching the body in the mirror, and it doesn't shrug. "I can see your memories," Fred says, unconcerned. "My body isn't really your style. It belongs to me. To Winifred Burkle, not to Illyria the Creep God."

"It is acceptable for the moment." She turns away from the mirror and inspects some of the photographs on the wall. "Who is Winifred Burkle?" she muses aloud.

"I am," comes the almost petulant reply. "You may be able to dress up like me and pretend everything's okay, but you're not me!"

"Nor do I wish to be. All these emotions for a damaged shell." She raps on the hardened skin in emphasis.

Fred sighs, and Illyria feels it in her chest, though she knows the lungs do not inflate in that rhythm. "You like emotions," she points out.

"They are an interesting object of study. A new evolution since my time."

"I wish you'd go back to your time," Fred mutters.

"This shell would do you little good."

"Don't care. It's still mine. Yes, I have emotions for it, because it fits me - comfortably, unlike for you - and it's been with me through a lot."

Illyria pauses at a picture of Fred and Wesley. "It is possible we could transplant you into a new shell," she offers.

"Transplant yourself. The shell is part of being Winifred Burkle."

"Then I am Winifred Burkle," Illyria says, shifting her appearance and voice to match.

"And I'm a mug of tea," Fred mutters sullenly, and the silence that follows gives Illyria an inexplicable urge to move her body in time with external sounds.


End file.
